Notes From A Drunkard: Avett Brothers @ the Music Box at the Fonda 5/9/09

I had sincere journalistic intentions when I set out to review this show. I really did. I planned to stake out a good spot by the stage, snap a bunch of live action shots, and scribe to-the-minute notes of witty inspirations, peppered with thoughtful alliterations. It was to be like a song.

That was, of course, until I hoovered a deadly pre-show dinner combo of Prosecco & Pork Confit (thanks, Bowery), followed by multiple Jack & Diet digestifs at the venue. After that, all I could squeeze out was this picture and the following notes, copied verbatim from my phone (Hag, don't judge me!):

avett
rousing, stomping sing-along
cheery crowd
busted strings

headbanging asian with no voice
just screaming to be heard

old school instruments
bushy beard spoken word

third song slow song lost edge
unless you imagined they were
singing right to you.

were you ever really listening
blonde with the black frame glasses
triumphantly claiming shame
as if it were her own

studio translation conundrum
more rain dance stomping
call and response

bass guy
SO pumped he picked the right instrument
in band class

gratitude

piano cello solo
out of place but
compassionately received

kickdrum silliness

magnolia tree
bass guy has pipes
surprise twist!

The end! I certainly meant to pretty it up, but I'll bet that even those fun little folky bastards themselves wouldn't want it that way. Good show, gentlemen. The streak has ended.

Cut Copy w/Matt & Kim @ the Music Box at the Fonda 3/10/09

The days of live musical performances giving me a good aural rogering appear to be over. I can't discern the precise reason for this. I refuse to accept that it's because I'm an aging cynical asshole. Instead, I choose to believe that this last handful of shows has simply failed to wow me.

Cut Copy produces danceable, accessible, 80s throwback electropop goodness. Its members are easy on the eyes. The musical performance was superficially satisfactory at minimum. So why the hell would I rather crap glass shards than write a review on this show (3 weeks late)? Here are the only reasons I thought of so far:

1. The set was uninspired. Nothing was particularly wrong, I guess, but something just wasn't right. The crowd was there because it was trendy to know who Cut Copy was, and trendier to like 'em. Even if the band delivered some transcendent performance, it would have been totally lost on the whacked-out-on-ecstasy couple dry-humping next to me-- and I'm fairly confident that they were a microcosmic example of the audience at large.

2. There's just too many bands doing this thing, whatever it is. Nothing's standing out! I mean, come on. Really mushroom-stamp me with something. Set the drummer on fire! Throw ninja stars into the audience! I don't know. I guess I feel like I've seen this exact show a dozen times before.

3. The best 80s music is, was and will always be from the 80s. Everything else is just reinvented at best, and plagiarism at worst.

4. The frontman looked so smug that I wanted to cock punch him. You're not the Second Coming, dude. Keep that chin down, give Bono his Rock God stage stance back and connect with something bigger than your ego-- namely, the people who paid good money to have you show them a good time.

Enough. Now I'm just getting nasty. But what the hell else can I do? I had to punch it up. I was putting myself to sleep.

I will say that opener Matt & Kim were quite delightful.

They nailed the cardinal rule of Effective Stage Presence: Have. A. Good. Time. Matt delivered the goods, bouncing effusively on the equipment and gushing sincere gratitude on the doting crowd. The set was surprisingly uncomplicated, but with that kind of energy and enthusiasm, they could have been playing Richard Marx Dance Remixes for all I knew and I still would have enjoyed myself.

Good God, I finally did it. This must be what passing a stone is like.